Sadist

On it?s face a whole lifetime of experiences all truly lived
A long deep furrow of who wanted to live
and talk to the sky
A man walks bent forward on the path
that leads to home
In the night blowing wind ? Owl hunting stops the run
The heat of a blind summer and I know
the smell of dead grass
Frost of a snowy winter cold feet that
sink but you cannot stop it
A man walks bent forward on the path
that leads to home